


Faults, Vices, and Virtues (شَفَرَات وحَيَّات)

by Syncronoged2438



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I swear, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It starts to actually make sense later I promise, Jafar Maleficent Cruella and Evil Queen are only referenced, Jaylos-centric, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This is really gay I'm sorry, This is why I shouldn't be allowed to watch Aladdin movies, Whump, Why Did I Write This?, jay-centric, no beta we die like men, slightly dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syncronoged2438/pseuds/Syncronoged2438
Summary: The Isle has never been kind, not to the weak, not even to the "strong". Many, far and few in between have fallen through the cracks, into it's clutches, only to be swallowed and never heard of again.Thanks to the new King's proclamation, the Core Four were able to escape the curse of the island...for now. They may put on a brave facade, but the seeds have already been sown.Let's see how long they last.Or:The Core Four's trauma is a bit more realistic, and somebody has a really bad time. Until they don't.





	1. [1] - Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RottenKidNextDoor (PortalofWords)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortalofWords/gifts), [taytayloulou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taytayloulou/gifts), [Irrelevantrelevancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevantrelevancy/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, everybody! I'm finally doing a bit more writing again, and trying a multi-chapter story, nonetheless! You're really going to hate me after this one though. Woops.
> 
> Come find me at @bi-riter09 or my main blog @syncron554 anytime! My inbox is always open, so come scream at me about Descendants.
> 
> -  
Gifted to RottenKidNextDoor, as well as taytayloulou and Irrelevantrelevancy for inspiration from Dominance and Grin and Bear It. (They're really good, please take the chance to read them.)
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter Start Date: August 28th, 2019  
Chapter End Date: August 29th, 2019  
Chapter Word Count: 315
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of an anxiety attack, panic attack, and slight self-harm.
> 
> Please do not read ahead if any of these bother you.

_ This can't be happening. _

He had tried so hard to do better, worked so hard just to  _ fit in _ , all for nothing? What was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go? What did he even  _ do _ ?

He grasped desperately at the roots of his hair, unaware of the telltale signs of tearing.

Everyone was going to be so disappointed in him. He had let them down  _ again and again. _ Maybe they had finally had enough of him. It was too late to fix it now.

He couldn't run - where would he go? They would find him eventually. He couldn't tell the others either, they would only get punished with him. He couldn't ask for help, or worse,  _ mercy _ . He brought this on himself.

Something wet was rolling down his face, tasting salty and metallic on his tongue. He couldn't hear anything over the numbing sound of his neurotic pacing and the rampant static playing through his ears.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't _ breathe _ . 

It felt almost as if all air was escaping him. 

His vision was stuttering out, leaving him seeing stars when he finally stopped his pacing about the dorm room. He settled himself on the floor before the bed, accidentally bumping his skull against the smooth mahogany of the foot board curling in on himself.

His throat was closing up, forcing him to drag himself through short, ragged breaths as he tried to fill his chest.

Nothing was making sense anymore. He felt foggy and uncentered, unable to make out even the smallest details of his surroundings.

In his panic, his fingertips accidentally brushed up against two small and blackened round scars in the crook of his neck, centimeters apart.

He stopped moving altogether.

When his vision finally faded into black, the last thing he heard before his body completely shut down, was dark, thunderous laughter.

_ "I'm sorry, Baba." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> بابا (Baba) - Arabic word for "Dad" or "Father".
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this little peek! 👀👀
> 
> I'll try my best to get the first chapter out soon, so don't worry.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked it!


	2. [2] - Unspoken are the Sins of The Condemned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay has some dark musings about his situation before going to join in some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, welcome to the first chapter of Faults, Vices, and Virtues (شَفَرَات وحَيَّات)!
> 
> I want to mention that the prologue from the previous chapter will not be tying into the story for awhile, and the scene will most likely be repeated, but in context, in a few chapters.
> 
> You can find me at @bi-riter09 or my main blog @syncron554 on Tumblr. My inbox is always open, so come yell at me about Descendants anytime!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -  
Gifted to RottenKidNextDoor, as well as taytayloulou and Irrelevantrelevancy for inspiration from Dominance and Grin and Bear It/Instructions Not Included. (They're really good, please take the chance to read them.)  
-
> 
> Chapter Start Date: August 29th, 2019  
Chapter End Date: August 30th, 2019  
Chapter Word Count: 655
> 
> Chapter Trigger Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, graphic depictions of child neglect, graphic depictions/referenced blood/gore, implied/referenced non-con/prostitution elements, implied/referenced violence involving animals (not animal abuse, but gore inflicted by animals), implied/referenced gaslighting elements, blatant effects of gaslighting.

_ "Home life is no more natural to us than a cage is natural to a cockatoo." _

_ **\- ** _

_**George Bernard Shaw** _

_____

_ It was a humid, cloudy day on the Isle of the Lost, like every day; but this day was almost like no other. _

A thick fog had swept through the streets. 

A dark cloud of musty smoke lingered just above the barrier, casting a shadow over the ratty, makeshift town.

The darkened sky was beginning to show signs of a violent rainstorm growing rampant along the east coast, daring to bring sleet and vicious winds; waiting to swallow the island whole.

It was a perfect day for commiting crimes, the likes of which he would most likely never see again in his short lifetime.

For the first time in all of his fifteen years, Jay could almost feel the pull of a true grin forming on his face.

There was bound to be plenty of dubious opportunities for his sneaky little hands to find their way into someone's unsuspecting pockets or purse and grab themselves a little prize for his efforts.

And it couldn't have come at a better time. 

Jay was tired of sleeping along the gutters of roofs or in the impossible-to-spot crates that lined the alleyways outside of Jafar's Junk Shop.

  


His father had quite literally kicked him out three weeks ago, for his inexcusable fuck-up with Rhiannon.

  


In hindsight, he should have seen it coming.

  


As a thief, Jay wasn't allowed to let his guard down, _ ever _. Not in his sleep, not at his father's shop, and definitely not with his f- his gang, not so long as they lived within the boundaries of the Isle.

If you were born on the Isle, and wanted to _ keep _ living, you followed the island's rules. No questions, no excuses, and certainly no mercy.

Jay understood these rules. 

He had also disregarded them.

He had been playing the long game with Rhian: exposing and manipulating her weaknesses, then exploiting her attraction to him to get to the bulging wallet tightly tucked in her black-and-red polka dot bra. For almost two years, he had her eating out of the palm of his hand, playing her like a puppet on a string. 

He had done exactly as his father had told him, perfect to a 'T', and played the role of the devoted golden boy; if only he could get just _ one second _ of his father's approval. If only Jafar could be proud of him for _ something _. 

  
  


If only it were that easy.

  
  


When he had crawled home that night, four parallel lines making up the bleeding claw mark etched over his left eye, Jafar was _ furious. _

Of all the times he had pissed off the ex-vizer, of all the times he had brought shame upon their family name, he had only seen his father's eyes burn that bright red a total of two times, before that night.

He had only tried to explain to Jafar once - that Cora's daughter had woken up and found him rifling through her purse, after- after... after what she had him do with her - before he was leaving the shop with more hand-shaped bruises lining his face, neck, and arms.

When he had finally gathered the energy to pick himself up off the hard concrete lining the front steps of the shop - ignoring the oddly beak-shaped cuts surrounding his eyes - he could only bring himself to feel grateful that two more round indentations hadn't found their way into the curve of his neck before he stalked off into the night.

If he could manage to take home even a handful of good steals, let alone a lamp, maybe his father would finally forgive him and let him back in. 

Maybe he could even try to make up with Rhiannon, despite how unlikely that seemed. 

He would do _ anything _ to make his father happy. 

He just needed to do better; work harder.

He would get his 'Abb to love him, even if it was the last thing he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> أب ('Abb) - Father
> 
> Woops, my hand slipped. Sorry.
> 
> If it didn't make sense, Rhiannon is the daughter of the Queen of Hearts, Cora Mills, who is quite wealthy on the Isle.
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you got the reference. Or just leave a comment in general, if you enjoyed it!
> 
> Sorry this one is so short, I meant to make it much longer, but I liked how it sounded, and decided to make the cut off there.
> 
> Hopefully I can make the next chapter a lot longer.
> 
> And if you don't already know, the full name of the story is Faults, Vices, and Virtues (Serpents and Blades). I wonder if that is going to tie in later...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. [3] - Fields of Wishes Dip into Valleys of Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is having a really bad time in Auradon and Carlos is about to lose it and worries too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone and finally welcome back to the second chapter of Faults, Vices, and Virtues (شَفَرَات وحَيَّات)!
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long to get out, school's been kicking my ass into next week.
> 
> Come find me at @bi-riter09 or my main blog @syncron554 anytime! My inbox is always open, so come scream at me about Descendants.
> 
> -
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -  
Gifted to RottenKidNextDoor, as well as taytayloulou and Irrelevantrelevancy for inspiration from Dominance and Grin and Bear It/Instructions Not Included. (They're really good, please take the chance to read them.)
> 
> Honestly, have I mentioned how much I love @Irrelevantrelevancy? I really love @Irrelevantrelevancy. You can thank her for a good 60% of my ideas for this chapter, or really just the entire story, as well as getting me to update it. So like, praise her and appreciate her work, please.
> 
> -
> 
> Chapter Start Date: September 3rd, 2019  
Chapter End Date: September 19th, 2019  
Chapter Word Count: 2,574
> 
> Chapter Trigger Warnings: Implied bullying, possible implied neuroticism/obsessive compulsive disorder, referenced child abuse/endangerment, violence involving animals (not animal abuse), briefly referenced death, implied eating disorder/severe body issues, verbal child abuse, self-hatred, accidental self harm, referenced anxiety/possible anxiety attack, unhealthy eating habits, self-worth issues, and implied depression.
> 
> Please do not read or proceed carefully if any of these bother you.

_"Always wear a smile because you never_ _know who is watching." _

** _ \- _ **

**Gracie Gold**

_____

It was a Tuesday.

  


He _ hated _ Tuesdays. 

  
  


Sundays were usually the best Good Days, perfectly organized and never disturbed or disrupted, just as he liked them.

His time was generously spent distributed between his resting, reviewing notes, tinkering, double-checking the size of every essay on Monday's homework, and triple-checking that he had also finished next month's assignments.

  


_(He was much too far behind- he should always have scheduled assignments completed two months in advance- at this rate he would be working at the same speed as the rest of the class, on par with the standard or even worse- _**below-average** _students. How was he supposed to prove his worth to the stuffy Auradon Prep staff members if he was no better than a C- average student? This was all wrong.)_

  


Mondays, just as well, were mostly Good Days. He wisely spent his time in class reinforcing subjects he could already teach in his sleep and drawing up new blueprints for his ill-advised inventions as he pretended to take notes. 

  


Mondays were always straightforward and logical.

  


He would avoid Mal on her murder path to Chemistry, pass Evie a coffee with a ridiculous amount of cream, drag Jay and his line of sight away from Audrey's various shiny purses, attend his regularly scheduled classes, pass in his completed, award-worthy assignments, resolutely ignore how his work was always graded harshly, despite never an incorrect answer in sight, and go home to Dude.

  


He had a routine, and nothing would change. It made _ sense _.

  
  
  


But, Tuesdays.

  
  
  


Tuesdays were decidedly determined to absolutely _ not _ be Good Days.

  


No, Tuesdays were always Bad Days, with a capital '_ Fuck you' _ stuck on in addition- as if it were needed.

  


Nothing about Tuesdays made logical sense, they were not straightforward or predictable. 

  


Anything could happen at anytime, to anyone. 

  


If there was any day the entire academy might decide to possibly implode in on itself, it would be on a Tuesday morning.

  
  


On Tuesdays, almost like clockwork, the staff would be violently hungover from drinking away yesterday's problems and the so-called jocks and trouble children would finally get over their passing Monday fever and would start weeding out the perfect target for the rest of the week. 

There would be no assignments handed out, and he couldn't distract himself with the staff actually bothering to watch him closely. 

  


Mal would lose the entertaining sleep-deprived edge to her vibrant anger, leaving her breath-takingly quiet and musing over her next art project. 

  


Evie would regain more than half a mind to even care about her appearance, redoing her make-up at least fifty times during lunch, sixth, and seventh periods alone, all while reassuring the others that she _ wasn't hungry _ , _ thank you _despite her pale, sweating face.

  
  
  


And Jay-

  
  
  


Well. 

  
  
  


It was a Tuesday, just as all Tuesdays could be.

  
  
  


It was all he could do to refrain from screaming bloody murder as his alarm began its incessant trilling and squealing.

  


He had Remedial Goodness II: Mannerly, Proper Behavior class bright and early at 9:15 in the morning, so like the responsible, respectable, obedient student he was, he rolled out of bed at 7:30 with minimal whining. 

  


(_ It was definitely not just because gorgeous, messy-haired Jay was still trying to chase restless sleep at his side. _ _ ) _

  


Barely able to drag himself to the dorm's adjoined bathroom without tripping over his oversized pajama bottoms, he somehow managed to pull himself through the doorway and over to the sink.

  


He followed through with the motions of routinely cleaning his teeth, washing his face, and showering, before he finally grabbed his brush with a sigh, and mentally steeled himself for the pain of combing through his curly hair.

Only, the brush went right through his hair.

  


It didn't catch on any tangles, pull on his hair, or even get stuck.

  


It was enough to startle him straight out of his still-half-asleep haze, prompting him to gaze up into his reflection in the foggy mirror.

  


He almost wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him, almost shrieking in surprise before he remembered himself.

  


An unfamiliar boy with short, straight black hair, hazel eyes, and clear, pale skin glared back at him from the other side of the glass, almost mocking him.

  


_ "Oh, right." _

  


How silly could a single boy be to forget what he looked like, to be startled his _ own reflection _? 

  


He stared at the boy in the mirror for a few more minutes, before a thought hit him so suddenly, that stopped his heart momentarily.

  


_ 'Would she be proud of me now? Is this what she wanted? If she saw me like this now, would she finally call me Her Little Boy? Her baby?' _

  
  


A single tear rolled down his cheek, dripping off his face onto the back of his hand.

  
  


He didn't hesitate to smash the mirror with the brush still tightly clutched in his hand, watching it splinter into many pieces before running his eyes admirably along the pattern of the formed cracks with morbid amusement, possibly even fascination.

  


He left the room, streams of blood dancing a line down his hand to drip along the floor, returning to place a black sheet over the now shattered mirror, and finish getting ready.

-

  


Everything seemed to be increasingly out of order for the rest of the day. 

  


His gut churned with the inexplicable feeling of _ wrong wrong something's wrong _ hanging over his head, growling in his ear and testing his self-control over anxiety.

  


Everything was out of place, _ it just wasn't right _.

  


Nothing felt right.

  


Not the uneven edges of Jay's short - _ short _\- hair.

  


_ (His hair wasn't supposed to be short, it wasn't supposed to be short- Jay has long- _ ** _long_ ** _ \- hair, it wasn't supposed to stop just below his chin- why, why is it short? It isn't supposed to be short.) _

  


Not the sweat beading across his tan forehead, not the way Carlos had to shake him awake when he heard whimpers being emitted from their shared bed, not how Jay sat up screaming, crying- crying for help.

  
  


_ (From who? What a stupid question.) _

  
  
  


Not the way the older boy kept rubbing his already-reddened eyes, trying not to cry, and _ definitely _ not the still-healing scars resting just under Jay's collar.

  


_ (He lied to him about them, tried- tried to tell him it wasn't what he knew it was. Maybe he almost got away with the many small round scars littering his body, but Carlos knew the effects of deadly poison when he saw it.) _

  


Not the way Jay tried to reassure _ him _ with the most broken smile he had ever seen, including his own.

  


_ (He wasn't an idiot- it wasn't hard to trace it back to his asshole of a father. Not when he was the only person on the isle with such a passion for hoarding dozens of snakes and serpents beyond his walls. Not when the blackened marks in the dip of Jay's collarbone matched up exactly to the size, shape, depth, width, _ ** _and_ ** _ diameter of cobra and viper fangs.) _

  


Not the way he shattered Carlos' heart into thousands of irreparable pieces when he broke out his heart-stealing infamous grin and sharp, dark roaming eyes to hide his broken soul as they walked down the hall towards the cafeteria.

  


_ (Carlos promised himself to only cry over Jay once a month. To pretend he didn't know a thing about what went down behind closed doors at _ ** _Jafar's Junk Shop _ ** _ and that the dark-haired thief didn't affect him at all, for at least twenty-nine days. Besides, the only thing he could do was pray to whatever god there was that Jay wouldn't die from venom poisoning. Or- if he did, that the barrier wouldn't fail to revive him.) _

  


Not the way Mal's eyes seemed dead, a dull grey, as she disheartenedly scolded them for being late for breakfast.

  


_ (She _ ** _loved_ ** _ breakfast. If they didn't get up and get together for at least one meal, she would skin them alive.) _

  


Not the way Evie greeted them with a soft, quiet smile, and cut her food into pieces so she would have an excuse to take smaller bites, take longer to eat, appear more ladylike. _ Prince-worthy _.

  


_ ("Don't you know a wide smile only gives flawless skin wrinkles, my little evilette? Why are you eating so much, dear? You don't want to get fat, now do you, my darling Evie?") _

  


Not the way he knew Jay could only stomach a single apple, despite how much he claimed he was just staying healthy for Tourney practice.

  


_ ("Your name is Jay. It's Jay. Not Jayden. Not heartbreaker. Not whore. Not daddy's little boy. Not bully. Not thief. It's _ ** _Jay_ ** _ . You aren't here to have sex with me, you're not here to rough me up or steal from me, you're not here to break my heart- although you're definitely trying- and you certainly aren't here to make your father proud, so cut the bullshit, Jay, and stop lying to me.") _

  


The sharp, pale, platinum blonde of Mal's straight, chest-length hair burned his eyes, the hazel of her eyes looking more sickeningly brown in place of its rightful green sheen.

_ ("You'll never be more than a villain, it's not like he'll ever make a _ ** _villain_ ** _ a queen.") _

He could barely even stomach the sight of Evie's dark brown hair, the beautiful hazel of her eyes now hidden behind a cloudy brown spell, a shadowed quirk of her lips unintentionally revealing how much she wanted to cry in that moment. 

_ ("Be a good dear, and find mummy a nice big castle to live in with a prince for you to marry, won't you, Evie?") _

He couldn't even recognize his own friends anymore, let alone himself.

_ ("You're useless and worthless, _ ** _pet_ ** _ , never forget that. You're nothing to me.") _

-

Wednesday was a Bad Day too.

Wednesdays usually brought tourney practices, dates with Ben, taking too many orders from new clients, and studying for impossible AP Calculus exams.

  


The girls weren't around. 

  
  


Mal was off busy getting ready, while Evie was suffocating under the weight of all her new dress orders to fill, and had practically all but screamed at them to give her enough space to work the way she does best.

  


Carlos had just barely finished the last equation for his exam when Jay finally stumbled in through the dorm door, fumbling with the key.

  


He could already tell that Jay was sporting a painful, sprained wrist and a major headache for his efforts in practice. 

  


It wasn't as if he could just try to hide anything from him anymore, it was just much too easy for Carlos to get a read on him now.

He shut his laptop, shuffling over to lay down on the bed next to where Jay had flopped down face-first on his pillow.

His only response to the younger boy's close presence was a muffled groan of pain, begging Carlos to inch even closer.

He laid his face down on the back of Jay's neck, using one hand to run his fingers through Jay's soft, brown hair and the other to lace together their fingers, breathing in his warm, never changing scent.

For what seemed like hours, they stayed just that way together, soaking in the comforting presence of each other without even needing words.

  


It was Jay who finally broke the calm of the silence.

  


_ "Carlos?" _

  
  


He hummed in response, moving his face next to Jay's so they could face each other directly.

  


_ "Was it worth it?" _

  


Carlos only hummed once more, not yet understanding what he was trying to inquire about.

  


_ "Staying in Auradon, I mean. Do you think it was worth it? It doesn't seem like we're any better off here, or anything." _

  


He bit his lip, eyes widening.

  
  


_ "I-" _ He wasn't sure what to say to that.

  
  


_ "It beats the Isle, at least, right?" _He finished, finally.

  
  


It was Jay's turn to hum in response, contemplating in silence.

  
  


He could almost hear the gears turning inside his dormmate's head, but he could only wish he knew what Jay was thinking at that moment.

  
  


_ "I guess what I'm trying to say is," _ Carlos rolled over, squeezing Jay's hand tighter when they met eyes. _ "Are you happy here?" _

  
  
  


He practically balked at the question, only giving a chuckle as a response.

  


_ "What does that have to do with anything at all?" _

  


_ "I mean, we decided to stay in Auradon so we could be happy here, right? So are you happy or aren't you?" _

  


Once again, Carlos was taken aback by Jay's train of thought. He was right, though, it was an important question.

  


But, how was Carlos supposed to know if he was truly happy in Auradon, if he had never truly experienced pure happiness? 

What was he supposed to say?

  


_ "I guess so. I don't have to worry about dying anymore, which is definitely a large plus," _ He started, getting a heavenly laugh to escape Jay before continuing, _ "and I get to be here with you and the girls right next to me every day. That was really all I ever wanted, but how can I say that I'm happy if we constantly have to walk around on rotten eggshells all the time?" _

  
  


Jay turned to stare at him for a very long time, seeming as if he was trying to catalogue every inch of his face. When he was satisfied enough with whatever it was he found, though, he finally nodded.

  
  


_ "I'm tired of all the hiding too. We can't be happy when we're still trying to play perfect princes and princesses. That's just not us, even though I seriously doubt Auradon is ever going to accept that." _

  


He only sighed and shoved his head further into the older boy's chest instead of responding. 

Auradon would never be open to change from their century old traditions, and that included never being able to understand the VKs, let alone _ accept _ them.

  
  


_ "Hey 'Los?" _

  
  


Jay's voice seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. He tried to respond, but the very best he could manage was a quiet, stifled hum.

  
  


Jay began to run his fingers through his black hair, all the while tapping an unknown rhythm against the hand still connected with his.

  
  
  


_ "I miss your freckles." _

  
  


Suddenly, Carlos was very grateful his face was hidden by Jay's ruffled jersey, keeping the tan-skinned boy from recognizing the red hot embarrassment creeping up his neck and settling easily upon his cheeks for all to witness.

Instead, he bit his lip and clutched onto the back of Jay's shirt, debating his answer.

  
  
  


_ "I miss your hair, too" _

  
  
  


That earned him a light peck deliberately placed just above his brow, and if his face wasn't red before, it most certainly was now.

  
  


_ "Well, at least we have each other, right?" _

  
  


Jay didn't bother to grace him with a response this time, instead focusing on nuzzling his face against the shorter's head with more vigor than he had ever even seen from Dude.

  
  
  


_ "I love you, 'Los, you know?" _

His heart stopped beating. 

  


_ No, no, he most certainly did _ ** _not_ ** _ know that, you absolute hard-headed oaf. _

  


Instead of letting his rapidfire internal screaming become increasingly external as well, though, he simply bit his tongue and laughed lightly into Jay's shirt.

  
  
  


_ "I love you too, idiot." _

  
  


They finally slept well into Thursday, a Good Day, never once letting go of each other throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look at that, I kept my promise! This chapter was much longer than the last two, and I even threw in some romantic fluff!.
> 
> Now we finally got some Carlos POV and found out where Jay's scars came from.
> 
> I'd like to say it gets better from here, but it really just goes very downhill very quickly. Woops.
> 
> Hopefully I'll remember long enough to get the next chapter out pretty soon. 
> 
> Leave me some comments to read if you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
